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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795784">Indelible</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quickspinner/pseuds/Quickspinner'>Quickspinner</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings in Author's Note for Ch 4, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background temporary adrienette, Burnout - Freeform, Don't say I didn't warn you, Emotional Hurt, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Pining, Recovering from failures, Stupid decisions, Twist on a soulmate fic, We're gonna earn this happy ending, are you getting the message yet?, but without actual soulmates, dreams die hard, nonsexual consent issues in Ch 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:56:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quickspinner/pseuds/Quickspinner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Luka asked Marinette to put her name on him, he was hoping to keep it for a long time. When he put his on her, he knew it would stay forever. The course of true love never did run smooth, especially when love is one-sided, but as long as her name stays on his skin, he'll know he still matters to her, and if he can't be the lover he wants to be, he'll settle for being the friend she can count on--even when it hurts. She may forget him someday and her name may fade from his body, but the mark she's left on his heart will never disappear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Crikey!  A Wild Dingo has Appeared!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Inscription</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/gifts">verfound</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420431">The Marks We Leave</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmReynolds/pseuds/MalcolmReynolds">MalcolmReynolds</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Y'all listen up!! THIS IS NOT MY USUAL FEEL GOOD FLUFF FEST. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. </p><p>With that said, I hope you still enjoy it. Nobody dies and we'll have a happy ending, but just know there will be pining and emotional suffering before we get there. I just know y'all probably expect a certain kind of thing from me at this point so I want you to be warned up front that this is a bit of a deviation from my norm. </p><p>SO. Now that that's out of the way, I've had this fic kicking around for a while, and this week is Verfound's birthday, and I promised I would finish this fic as her birthday gift, so here's the first installment a little early because frankly she's having a crappy week so far and she deserves some love. This fic is written in vignettes sort of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386470">Hey Gorgeous</a> style, and I'm hoping to update once a week.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was inspired partially by a tumblr post that said, essentially, "what if soulmate marks had to be voluntary and intentional" and by Mal's fic <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420431">The Marks We Leave</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This was not supposed to be a sensual thing, Luka reminded himself as he lay back on his bed, one arm over his eyes. Friends did it all the time. It was no big deal. He’d done it with Juleka. He’d done it with Rose. Hell, he’d even done it with Dingo, although that wasn’t really his choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So really, this was no big deal, and it wasn’t fair to Marinette for him to make it into one, just because he had asked her to put her name on his torso instead of somewhere more neutral like his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure about this?” Marinette asked one more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little late now,” Luka grinned. “But yeah, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just...people might think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka snorted. “I don’t care what people think.” He couldn’t have said how he knew she smiled, but he was sure she did. For a moment there was only the tickle of the marker and his slow breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How fancy do you want it?” Marinette asked, her words slower and softer than usual as she concentrated on her task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As fancy as you want to make it,” Luka replied, trying not to let his belly move too much as he spoke. “All of your art is beautiful, Marinette.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s sigh ghosted across his skin and he closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady. “That’s not very helpful,” she muttered. “I’d hate to have to stop being friends with you so that you can get rid of my bad artistic decisions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was fortunate she had paused and lifted her marker to consider, because he couldn’t help chuckling at that. “I’m still friends with Dingo,” he reminded her, and Marinette giggled. The bright green </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dingo King </span>
  </em>
  <span>scrawled messily across Luka’s lower back remained as bold as it had been the day Dingo had scrawled it on a sleeping Luka right under his giggling sister’s traitorous eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her betrayal, Juleka’s name was written more neatly on the inside of Luka’s wrist, and Rose’s fancier script adorned the other. There had been others over the years, but they’d faded as the friendships faded and eventually disappeared. Luka hadn’t expected them to last, so he hadn’t cared much about placement or aesthetics, and as they’d faded, he hadn’t really bothered collecting more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s name, though...that one he’d put some thought into, as he was hoping to keep it a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now he was laying on his bed with his shirt pushed up around his armpits, while Marinette carefully drew her elaborate, decorative signature on him, and somehow he was finding the whole thing much more intense than he’d expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a slow, careful breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never did tell me where you signed him,” Marinette reminded him, and he felt the tickle of the marker return as she resumed her work. “Dingo, I mean. Just that you refused to sign his ass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka chuckled. “Middle finger.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s touch disappeared and her laugh rang out, and he grinned stupidly to himself under the cover of his arm before peeking out to look at her. “Sorry,” she giggled. “Oh, don’t make me laugh like that, I don’t want to mess this up.” She leaned back in, her expression going serious again as she lifted her marker and considered where to begin again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You asked,” Luka said innocently, still grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mistake,” she murmured with a chuckle, and that low velvet sound was a special kind of torture as she put her hands back on his ribs. “Hold still. Just a little more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your time,” Luka rasped, and cleared his throat. God, teenage hormones were annoying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several long minutes later, Marinette sat up and sighed, capping her marker with finality as she announced, “Done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka propped himself up on his elbows and looked down, and there it was, Marinette’s name just under his ribs. It was beautiful, and even as he watched it, the color shifted from the sweet baby pink she had used to draw it to something deeper and more bold, more befitting the strength of their friendship, and it stood out prominently even against his tanned skin. Luka stood up and went to Juleka’s vanity to get a better look at the swirls and flourishes that adorned Marinette’s name, ending in one of her signature flowers on the tail of the e. Her last name was formed below, but smaller, tucked up under the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marinette </span>
  </em>
  <span>and cradled in the decorative tendrils trailing down from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was gorgeous and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he loved it as much as he loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfect,” Luka said thickly, and had to clear his throat again, unexpectedly affected by the confirmation that even if she didn’t love him the way he wished she did, she cared deeply for him. That he was important to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that already. It shouldn’t have hit him like it did. He shouldn’t have needed proof. But there it was, inscribed by her own hands. As long as this mark remained on him, he’d always know he mattered to her. Most people, especially at their age, traded signatures without much thought. Most seemed to feel there wasn’t really much reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to, not when the mark would fade as the relationship faded. It wasn’t that likely you’d be trapped with a name you regretted, although it did happen occasionally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka knew his reluctance was unusual. Strange, even. He really couldn’t even explain it himself with any eloquence. It was more an instinct than anything else. He just wanted his relationships to stand on their own, and not be judged and defined by the marks on his skin. Having a way to constantly check where he stood with people felt like a crutch, like cheating, like giving himself a reason not to pay attention to the real life person behind the name. Wanting her name on him felt like a weakness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was always weak when it came to Marinette though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence for a long moment, Luka not daring to turn around until he had himself under control again. Marinette didn’t seem to think anything at all was strange about the pause, smiling brightly at Luka when he turned around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I held up my end,” she said, crossing her legs under her on the bed. “Your turn to make good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Luka chuckled, pulling his shirt down as he came to sit back down next to her. “Where do you want it?” Marinette’s arms were already a riot of color, names in various sizes and hues, in handwriting messy or neat, loopy or blocky, simple and elaborate. Luka waited for Marinette to point out a blank space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Marinette opened her mouth, and then paused, looking down at her hands. Luka frowned, ducking his head slightly to look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette?” He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. Marinette glanced up at him and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” she said, nodding towards his hand on her shoulder. “That’s where I want it. Right under your hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Luka’s face heated slightly, and he let go, and for a moment his hand hovered her shoulder. “Um, okay. I can do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette shimmied out of her jacket and started working her shirt collar over to the side to expose her shoulder, but Luka stopped her. “I’ll get you one of mine so you don’t stretch yours out,” he said, turning away from her to dig in a drawer. “You pick your color.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled out a clean shirt as Marinette sorted through the markers she had dumped out on his bed. She took the shirt he handed her and then held a marker up by his face, against his hair. With a hum she dropped it back on the bed and picked up another to repeat the experiment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I do dye my hair other colors sometimes,” Luka teased, and Marinette just hummed thoughtfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the color that it is now, though,” Marinette said in that same distracted tone, frowning in concentration. “This will always be the color it was when we met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was looking at him but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him as she held up a second color, trying to decide between them, and he took the opportunity to look at her more openly than he usually dared, at the smooth curve of her cheek, the angle of her nose, and the soft pattern of her eyelashes against her skin and at her full, perfect lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath. “Marinette.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how I feel about you,” he said quietly, and her eyes suddenly focused on him in startled surprise. Then she blushed and nodded, dropping her gaze back to the pens. “I’m sorry for bringing it up,” he continued, his fingers curling tight on his knees. “I don’t want to pressure you, I just want you to be sure about this, because—” He swallowed. “Whatever I do, it’s going to be—and it'll probably be there for...a long time...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so,” she smiled at him, holding another marker by his head, but he could see that her hand was shaking. “I...hear you, I do. I still want this. You’re important to me and I care about you, a lot, and I want to carry a piece of you with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka let out a long breath, fingers uncurling. “Okay. As long as you’re sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him, a little sadly, but sincerely. “I’m sure.” She handed him the marker she had chosen. Luka turned his back, closing his eyes just to be safe as she changed shirts behind him. He turned back at her word, finding her arranging the wide collar of his too-large shirt to expose the curve of her shoulder and slipping a lacy pink strap down and back under the sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka swallowed hard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This is not supposed to be a sensual thing, he reminded himself, and reached out to grip her shoulder like he had a thousand times before. If his thumb brushed her bare skin an extra time or two, it was just getting a better reference for where he should start writing. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be a creep, Couffaine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no other names here, Luka realized with a jolt as he stared at her blank skin. He could claim as much space as he wanted, and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luka?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka blinked himself back to reality and shot Marinette an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just thinking. I don’t want to mess it up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette giggled. “You can’t mess it up, Luka. As long as you write it, that’s good enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s such a pretty shoulder, though,” he couldn’t help teasing, “I just want it to look nice.” He laughed when Marinette made a face at him and hoped she couldn’t hear the nerves in it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care about it looking nice, I just want it to look like you,” she said, and Luka burst out laughing again as she flushed and groaned, covering her face. “No, I just mean—” She dropped her hands and pouted at him. “Just pretend I’m one of those album covers you’re going to be signing left and right in a few years and give me the real Luka Couffaine autograph.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said, still chuckling, but the mirth died away as he came back to the seriousness of the moment. His hand flexed one more time on her shoulder before lifting away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka kept his eyes on that strip of skin as he pulled off the marker cap and leaned forward, balancing with one hand on her other shoulder as he took one more deep breath and then began to write. He tried to do as she wished, to not overthink it and give her as real a signature as he could manage. The marker glided over her smooth skin more easily than he expected; but of course Marinette carried quality tools. He was done in mere moments, far less time than it had taken for her intricate, artistic signature. Luka didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he raised his marker after the e and exhaled. He capped the marker before offering it back to Marinette, who was too busy craning her neck to see her shoulder to take it. He dropped it on the bed instead, watching as she grinned in delight at his name on her. Like her own signature, the color deepened, still recognizably blue in the light, but nearly black in its intensity. Marinette beamed up at him, and he wished he could kiss her, take her face in his hands and press his lips to hers and— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka blinked the fantasy away and leaned back a little, needing a bit of distance from that smile and those eyes before he really did something stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Luka,” Marinette was saying, and then she hugged him, and he tucked her up against him, squeezing tight, and he couldn’t deny himself the indulgence of pressing his lips to her forehead for a long moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Marinette.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Poised</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just wanna say thank you for everyone who said you were ready for the pain, it gave me both evil cackles and warm fuzzies. I find it funny that my AO3 audience is like YES PAIN and my tumblr audience is like...uh....maybe I'll wait on this one a bit...Such a contrast lol!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marinette was staring at him. Luka knew it, although he didn’t look at her as he leaned on the rail in the <em> Liberty </em>’s bow, keeping his gaze on the water. </p><p>“Luka, that’s—that’s amazing!” she finally cried. “That’s <em> great </em> news.” </p><p>Luka smiled ruefully. It really was. He should be losing his mind with excitement and anticipation. </p><p>He wasn’t, though, and of course she noticed. Her hand was warm against his bare arm. “Why aren’t you happy?” she asked softly.</p><p>Luka sighed. “It’s...complicated. Six months ago, I’d be over the moon to tour with Jagged Stone, even as a roadie, but…”</p><p>“That was before you knew about him and your mom?” Marinette asked, sliding over to cuddle up next to him, trying to shield him from the wind—which was laughable, really, considering how much smaller than him she was. “Where’s your hoodie, you’re freezing.” </p><p>“I’m fine,” he lied, and then bit his lip when she put her arms around him, outside of his own, enveloping him in what little heat her slight form could offer. </p><p>“It’s okay to feel mixed up about it,” Marinette said softly, laying her head against his shoulder. “Aren’t you always telling me to just feel what I feel?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Luka sighed, letting his head lean against hers. “There’s more to it, though.” </p><p>Marinette made a questioning noise, propping her chin on his shoulder to look up at him. </p><p>“I don’t want to leave,” he admitted softly. “I don’t want to leave Juleka, and Mom, and...and you.” </p><p>Marinette sighed, and squeezed him tighter. “I don’t want you to go either,” she admitted. “But you shouldn’t give this up because of us. We’ll be all right. Juleka has Rose, and...and I’ll get by. I have my family, and...it’ll be fine.” Luka glanced down at the arms around him, though her skin was hidden under the long sleeves of the coat she was wearing against the frigid breeze. His name on her shoulder was as dark as it had been two years ago when he put it there, and hers still stood out dark on his tanned skin, but...he hadn’t liked what he’d been seeing, lately, the lightening marks of Marinette’s other friendships. Marinette remained adamant that it was only temporary, that they’d come around again, but Luka worried. Marinette had such energy and charisma, along with the biggest heart he’d ever known. She drew people in and treasured them, she was <em> made </em> for people and connections. Marinette should always be a brightly colored canvas, not the subdued, watered-down version he’d been seeing. </p><p>“I’ll be fine,” she said, wrapping one hand around his bicep and squeezing. “I know I’ve been leaning on you a lot, but I never meant to make you feel burdened for me. I can handle it, Luka.” </p><p>“That’s not—I know you can, of course I know that. Just…” He turned towards her. “Marinette, I—” Luka paused, checked himself, looked at his feet. </p><p>Marinette bit her lip, folding her arms in unconscious defense against what she had to sense he was on the edge of saying. Luka looked at her and swallowed the words down again. “I’ll miss you,” he said instead, and watched her relax, watched her smile return and her arms loosen. </p><p>“I’ll miss you too,” she told him. “But we can still talk.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Luka nodded, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Of course. And you know you can call me if you ever need me, even if you just need me to be on the phone with you while you cry, okay? None of this nonsense about <em> I didn’t want to bring you down </em>,” he mimicked her voice, which made her laugh as he’d intended.  </p><p>“I promise,” she said, punching him lightly in the arm. “I never could fool you, anyway.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Luka smiled. </p><p>“But you have to promise me too,” Marinette said, catching him by surprise. She was looking at him earnestly, her lips tight and her head slightly cocked, as if trying to read something from him. That was odd, since the only thing he ever hid from her was the thing she didn’t want to hear. “You have to promise me you’ll keep in touch. Not just with me, I mean, but—I’m a little bit afraid of you being all by yourself all the time. You have to reach out too, okay?” </p><p>Luka smiled. “It’s not like I’ll be alone. I’ll be surrounded by crew all the time. Plus Dingo’ll be there.”</p><p>Marinette rolled her eyes. “Dingo. I mean, I’m glad he’s going to be there, I think his...I don’t know, his energy I guess? I think it’ll be good for you, sort of.” She winced. “I mean, Dingo’s maybe a little bit <em> too </em> much, but…” She sighed. “I just know how you can get with your music, and you need someone to pull you out of it every once in a while. Dingo’s just one person, and he’s...a lot. I know he cares about you, and I know you care about him, but just because Dingo is Dingo it’s maybe a little too easy for you to blow him off. Just...don’t forget the rest of us exist, okay?” She tried to smile, and Luka squeezed the hand he was still holding. “We’re here for you, even if we can’t be <em> there </em>for you.” </p><p>Luka nodded slowly, and smiled. “I get it, I think. I’ll try to keep it in mind. Thanks for worrying about me, Marinette.” </p><p>“Well, I’m so good at it,” she sighed, and they both laughed, and the air felt lighter as they leaned back against the rail together. </p><p>They talked until the sun went down, about the places he’d be going and the things he’d get to do and see, and what it would be like to work for <em> the </em> Jagged Stone, and the bands that would be on the tour and how much he was going to learn from the whole experience. Marinette was clearly thrilled for him, despite whatever she might have felt about him being gone for most of a year at least, and Luka tried to commit to memory the animation in her eyes and the excitement in her voice, the way she bounced on her toes and clung to his arm before snuggling back against him. </p><p>Still, when he walked her back down the gangplank and saw her safely to the metro, it felt strangely final. He’d see her again, he knew, and again and again after that. It was a good month before he’d actually have to leave. But turning away from the metro station felt weirdly like taking the first step away from her. </p><p>That night he spent a long time staring at Marinette’s name reflected in the front facing camera of his phone, trying to decide if the signature was lighter at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Scratch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tour life was crazy. Luka had stumbled around the first week, constantly in everyone’s way and the subject of many conversations that cut off when he came into earshot. Finally he’d gritted his teeth and thrown himself into the chaos, intent on working hard enough to earn his place no matter what his relationship to Jagged might or might not be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was working, and he’d slowly been proving he belonged here, but it didn’t leave time for much else. He didn’t even notice he had a voicemail until hours after the timestamp, and after he’d listened to it, it was several hours still before he could steal a moment—and it felt like stealing, on a show night—to return the call.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka wedged himself between some equipment backstage and smashed his phone against his ear, barely able to make out the ringing over the noise around him. The ringing stopped but he wasn’t sure anyone was on the other line. “Marinette?” he shouted, covering his other ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just at that moment the song playing on stage ended. That was good, because now he could hear even with the lead singer talking to the audience, but also not so great, because it meant he was almost out of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—glad you called, can you hear me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you,” Luka said, relieved. “Hey, is everything okay? Your message was—” 100% Marinette-brand spazz. “—vague.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! It’s fine. Great actually. I’m sorry for making it sound so urgent,” Marinette said sheepishly, and he could almost see her pacing in her room, tugging on a pigtail. “It’s just, when Adrien’s involved there’s always press, and I didn’t want you to find out from the tabloids, and it seemed like a weird thing to text, and—” She stopped her ramble and took a deep breath. “Um. Adrien and I are dating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awesome, Marinette,” he said without hesitation, though his brain didn’t feel connected to his body anymore. “You finally told him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He asked me out, actually. Sort of. It was—well it was awkward and complicated, actually, but we’re together now, and that’s what matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka raised his eyebrows. “Okay. I’m not really sure what that means but I don’t have time to stay and get the details right now. Just—are you happy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy, Luka,” she breathed, and she sounded it, and he smiled despite his own pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great, Marinette. I’m really happy for you. I gotta go, but I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Marinette replied. “I know you’re about to go on stage. Knock ‘em dead, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” Luka chuckled, and had to clear his throat after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luka…” Marinette hesitated. “Are we...are we still okay? Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Marinette,” Luka told her, trying to put all of his sincerity in her voice. “Of course we’re okay.” The band started back up and he was grateful for the excuse. “I really gotta go,” he shouted, not sure she could even hear him anymore. “Bye, Marinette.” He hung up the phone and slumped against the equipment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was happy for her. He was. But he was allowed to have just this moment at least, right? To hurt. To wonder if anything would have been different if he stayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably not. He knew that. She’d been in love with Adrien forever. It was kind of dumb to even be upset about this news. He knew she loved Adrien, had known it from that first concert on the Liberty. She loved Luka too, just...not like that. Luka was sincere in his well wishes; he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>want her to be happy. Just...would there be any room for him now? For the kind of friendship they had? He lifted his shirt briefly and looked down, but he could barely see her name at all in the dim backstage lighting. Luka shoved the shirt back down, feeling stupid, and took a deep breath, blinking as he looked up at the ceiling. He couldn’t ruin his eyeliner now. He only had the rest of this song to get himself together, and then he’d be called to the stage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After,” Luka muttered to himself. After, he’d give himself a night to fall apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, the roar of the crowd and the feel of his guitar and the exhilaration that always came with performing alongside Jagged, who, whatever his faults as a person and a maybe-father, was still a legend in his field, was just what the doctor ordered.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rewrite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: nonsexual consent issues/consent violation</p><p>So I struggled with how to warn for this one - there is no sexual assault or nonconsenting sexual contact of any kind, but Luka does have something done to his body without his permission, and the parallels are definitely there and may be triggering for some. Please use caution and judgement; I'll put a brief summary in the end notes for those who feel it might be triggering to read.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Luka sat at the café, tapping his fingers in a restless rhythm as he waited. It was the first time in months that he and Marinette had been in Paris at the same time, and it had taken some pretty significant negotiations with both of their schedules to set aside this afternoon. The whole afternoon, Luka had gently insisted. He didn’t want to be rushing through his time with her like the last time they had managed to meet up. Dating Adrien came with certain obligations for Marinette, and Luka had continued to put a lot of work into his career, working with Jagged (well, mostly with Penny) in the off season to learn the business and behind-the-scenes side of things. He made connections with other artists, too, and accepted any mentorship opportunities they offered him, working to develop his own sound and an identity that could stand on its own once he started stepping out of Jagged’s shadow. Finding time when his schedule and Mainette’s matched up was becoming harder, especially because she was beginning to move into a similar situation at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mark on him had dimmed some since her relationship with Adrien began, as Luka had expected. Luka imagined his name on her shoulder had faded as well, at least a little. He’d made more of an effort, since that phone call, to open his heart to other people, to be willing to move on. He bore two other signatures now, faded and faint as befit the fond remembrance of former lovers with whom he had parted amicably. His name likely looked the same on them, pale and blurred at the edges, as if they were slowly sinking into his skin as time and distance subsumed them into the whole of his life experience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a third, still bright and crisp, but Luka’s thoughts shied away from it as he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, dropping his hand to brush against the place on his side where Marinette’s name remained; softened, but still very much present.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Marinette still talked, still shared a lot, but he couldn’t be her sole confidante anymore, and that was the way it should be. She should be trusting Adrien with her secrets, not him, and while he did offer some gentle advice from time to time when she was frustrated, he had no desire to be the person she came to with her relationship woes. There was a necessary wall there, and Luka...well, if he was honest, Luka was hoping this meetup would put some of those deeper feelings to a more peaceful rest. He got on well enough while he was in a relationship, able to focus on being in the moment with his partner, to let go of the might-have-beens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But every time a relationship ended, he missed Marinette with an ache that told him he was still holding on to...something. Not hope, not really. He neither hoped nor wished for anything but happiness in her relationship with Adrien. They were both good people and deserved happiness, and any niggling doubts he had about whether Marinette actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy had more to do with Adrien’s dad and the lifestyle he forced them into than whether or not she and Adrien loved each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just that Luka still loved her too.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told himself that by this time, maybe he was in love with a fantasy, with a girl who no longer existed. They were older now, and clearly they’d grown apart, and maybe now he could sit face to face with her and see only his dearest friend, and not the girl he still loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Luka wouldn’t even have to ask her what he planned to ask her. Maybe he could just deal with it on his own. Maybe it wouldn’t feel so important after he talked to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was staring in her direction when she walked up, but he was so lost in his thoughts that Luka didn’t even see her until she was close enough to call his name. He blinked himself back to reality and grinned, standing up as Marinette began to do that silly prancing jog that women did when they were wearing heels but were trying to hurry. His grin widened as he took in her excited smile and she waved both hands at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair was longer than it had been, tied in a loose, low ponytail and pulled over her shoulder, hanging over the part of his signature that would have been visible outside of her shirt collar. Luka swallowed, feeling both hot and cold at the same time, suddenly certain that the mark was darker than it had a right to be. The thought that she was trying to hide it made his hands go shaky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette smiled even brighter, though, as she reached him, the same warm, slightly too-big smile she’d always had, her hands reaching eagerly for his. Luka caught them and leaned in to exchange cheek kisses with her. She’d gotten taller while he was gone, but so had he, so it wasn’t too weird. He chucked when she squealed and bounced on her toes a little, taking in the new and very becoming maturity in her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so good to see you,” she told him, squeezing his hands before letting go. She sat in the chair he pulled out for her and leaned forward as he sat across from her. “Tell me everything. Are you loving it? Is it still your dream?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has its ups and downs, but yeah, I’m really loving it,” Luka admitted, leaning towards her as well. “Jagged’s a trip, but Penny keeps things running so smoothly that between the two of them I’m learning a lot. And playing on stage is…” He paused, and shook his head. “Wild,” he said finally, and Marinette giggled. “Really wild. Jagged packs in the crowds and it’s just...terrifying, but electric at the same time. Opening for him is…” Luka shook his head, blowing out a slow breath. “Way farther than I ever thought I’d get in this business. They’re, um…” He looked down at the table, feeling like he was bragging. “They’re talking about an album, Marinette. Not covers like I’ve been doing, but an original album to promote on next year’s tour.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes grew round, and she pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle her squeal. The table shook slightly as she bounced her feet excitedly under the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that Luka knew that those stupid feelings weren’t going anywhere, at least not this time. He was just as captivated by her as ever. He smiled softly at her as she gushed over how well he was doing until she seemed to run out of things to say, and then she just stared at him, eyes shining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka needed to bring this moment down somehow or he was going to do something stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like your hair,” he blurted, and looked down at his plate, flushing. He glanced up to see Marinette turning bright pink as she looked down and stirred her drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I never meant for it to be a burden to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Marinette said immediately, reaching over to cover his hand with her own. “Please don’t think that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka cracked a smile. “I hope it’s not causing you any problems with Adrien.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette snorted softly and straightened, her hand slipping away. “It’s really not, I promise. It’s just that we’re on camera so much, and your name is getting out there more and more. I know you’re pretty private about these things. I didn’t want someone to notice and ask you—or us, if I’m honest—awkward questions.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I maybe should have thought a little more about that when we did it, but…” She shrugged. “I still don’t regret it if you don’t. Do you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Luka admitted, curling his fingers together to keep from taking her hand. “I really don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette cleared her throat and straightened. “So, how are things going with—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not,” Luka cut her off sharply, and she blinked in surprise at him. “We broke up,” he elaborated, his voice shaking. “That’s part of the reason I wanted to meet you today, actually. I...need your help. But...not here. We can talk about it later. If you wouldn’t mind coming back to the Liberty with me. Or we can go to your place, I don’t care, just somewhere...not public.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced up, unsurprised to see Marinette watching him narrowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment she picked up her fork, her lips a tight line. “Let’s skip dessert,” she suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner was quiet after that, and Luka felt guilty about it. He hadn’t meant to bring up the issue till they’d finished, but he should have known Marinette would broach the subject first. He should have known she’d ask, especially as he had gone silent on the topic of his relationship months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t argue when she picked up the check, and followed her to the bakery because it was closer. When they were alone in the Dupain-Cheng living room, he pulled off his shirt in one swift move, like ripping off a band-aid, and turned his back to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did it while I was sleeping,” he said quickly, and heard Marinette’s gasp of understanding. His shoulders curled in shame and he spoke in a rush. “I didn’t agree to it, and I don’t want it, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, but it’s been months since I broke up with her and it’s not fading. She’s not letting go and I can’t get rid of it until she does.” He took a deep breath, and tried to slow down. “Will you help me cover it? Please. I’ve got my regular tattoo guy on standby, but I want the art to be from you. I...need it to be from you. I need it to be special. I need something powerful, to—to take it back. Reclaim...I don’t know.” He shut his mouth quickly, afraid that he wasn’t even making sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luka,” Marinette breathed, and he shrunk in on himself further as he felt her touch the name just above his left shoulder blade. “Are you sure? I mean cover ups are...they’re a pretty specific kind of art, I don’t know if I can do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can work with my artist if something needs to be changed,” Luka sighed. “Just...please try.” He laughed mirthlessly. “You know, it was funny when Dingo did it, even though I beat the shit out of him for it. Cause I would have let him if he’d asked, and the whole thing was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dingo</span>
  </em>
  <span> that it didn’t seem wrong. But this one...I can’t live with it, Marinette. Just any old picture isn’t good enough. I need it to be yours. I’d rather be yours than—” He stopped, gritting his teeth. That wasn’t fair to her. “You’re the best artist I know,” he said finally. “I know you can make it something...something that won’t hurt anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s arms came around him from behind and she rested her cheek against his back. “You should have pressed charges,” she growled. “You know they made that a crime a few years ago.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I didn’t want to give her another reason to remember me,” Luka sighed, leaning back into her. “I thought after we broke up, it would go away when she moved on, but...I don’t know, either she’s still hung up on me, or…” Or she just liked having a claim on him. Knowing her name was one of the few he carried. Luka didn’t sign many people, and consented to be signed by even fewer, and maybe she got a boost from knowing her name was on him. “Will you do it?” he asked, trying not to beg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I will,” she told him, her breath washing over his back with her sigh. “Of course I will, Luka. Let me go get my things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka slumped down onto the couch while she went, feeling some of the burden lift just from having told her. When she came back down, she sat on the couch next to him and traced the mark onto a sheet of paper. As soon as she was done, Luka put his shirt back on, hardly able to look at Marinette as she did some digital magic to get it into her tablet. She flipped the original paper over and put it on the end table on her other side, out of his sight, and that helped. Then she wiggled around so that her back was against the arm of the couch and balanced her tablet across her knees, so that it faced away from him. Luka rested a hand on her knee and squeezed, unable to voice his appreciation. Marinette smiled and began—not sketching, not right away, but talking to him. She reminded him of things they’d done together, songs that they’d listened to. She asked about Juleka and Anarka, and more about what Jagged was like when he wasn’t being Jagged. (“He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jagged,” Luka snorted, reaching for his guitar case out of habit. Marinette hid a smile as he began idly plucking a familiar old tune, and asked him what visiting Australia with Dingo had been like. Luka groaned.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t even sure when her stylus started moving. He was so used to her doodling while they talked that he didn’t even register it anymore. He was laughing as he told her about the time Dingo’s hair had dipped a little too close to a stage light and started smoking, when she turned her tablet around to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka’s breath caught, and he moved the guitar aside to lean forward and take the tablet in his hands. “We might need to make some tweaks,” Marinette said, slightly apologetically. “I’m not really—well it’s not that I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>designed tattoos but I’m not exactly an expert. I don’t know about making it fit the body and, and all that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make clothes to fit the body,” Luka pointed out absently, still looking at the sketch, zooming in to see the details—pieces of little memories, not only of him and her, but of his family, and the stories he’d told her as she worked. “I don’t see why this shouldn’t work, but we can ask Jean-Marc. Even if we have to make some changes, this is a great start.” He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed. “Thank you,” he said shakily.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she said, catching the hand he reached out to her and squeezing it. “I’m here for you. You know I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat, looking back at the image again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took more back and forth between Marinette and his tattoo artist than Luka expected, and several sittings before the work was complete. Somehow Marinette made time in her schedule to be there every time he came back into Paris to have more work done on it. Luka objected, but Marinette ignored him, and every time Luka was in the tattoo chair, Marinette was beside it, doodling new designs, chatting up the other artists, and making Luka feel downright spoiled with her care of him. He felt selfish, taking up so much of her time, especially when Dingo and Juleka insisted on being there in turns as it was, but Marinette just smiled and reminded him that Adrien was his friend too, and Adrien understood that Marinette wanted to be there for Luka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can spare a day every couple of months for you,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “You doing all right? Need a drink or anything?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly the name disappeared under the new ink, rendered unimportant by the meaning and memory being packed into the skin over and around it. Slowly he began to feel like he could breathe again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta admit, mate, it’s pretty sick,” Dingo said, arms crossed as he stood beside Luka, both of them examining the half-finished tattoo in the mirror. “I can barely see—you know—even now. It’ll be next thing to invisible when the whole thing’s done.” He tipped down his shades and met Luka’s eyes. “Is it helping?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helping, yeah,” Luka sighed, craning his neck over his shoulder to look at the art. “I know it’s not going to fix everything, but...for a first step, yeah. It feels really good.” He faced forward again as his neck began to ache, and his eyes flicked to Marinette. She was talking to Jean-Marc about the next steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly he was looking at his own face, and he realized Dingo had stuck a hand mirror in front of his face. “Try that, mate,” Dingo said with a smirk. “So you don’t hurt yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka rolled his eyes, and took the mirror, angling it so he could see the tattoo in the mirror behind him. “You’re not subtle,” he told Dingo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just watching out for you, mate,” Dingo replied, unusually solemn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka rolled his eyes and quickly lowered the mirror as he heard the tap-tap of Marinette’s heels approaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, just a few weeks before his next tour was set to begin, Luka left Paris with a gorgeous, elaborate tattoo on his shoulder, a profound sense of relief, and the certain knowledge that he was just as in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng as he’d ever been. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Luka meets Marinette for dinner. They haven't been in Paris at the same time in quite a while; Marinette's relationship with Adrien and new responsibilities at Gabriel keep her hopping, and Luka is taking his music career very seriously, traveling with Jagged and other artists and working to learn the business. Luka is hoping his feelings for her will be less intense after so much time away, and also wants to ask a favor of Marinette. An ex-girlfriend placed a soulmark name on him while he was sleeping, without his permission, and he wants Marinette to design him a tattoo to cover it up. She agrees, and designs something meaningful for him. She accompanies him to all of his appointments until the tattoo is complete. Luka feels better now that the name is covered with something important to him, and also quickly concludes that he's just as in love with her as he ever was.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Revise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Luka was in America when Marinette called him, sobbing, and told him that she and Adrien had broken up. Luka stood there in shock for a moment, mouth hanging open, as Marinette cried. He thought they were happy, he thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was happy, they'd been dating for <em>years </em>and Luka had been expecting a wedding, not a breakup. He couldn’t understand what Adrien could be thinking, but— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come to New York,” he said impulsively. “I’ve got enough miles to get you here. Might not be first class, but you’ll get here in one piece.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That shocked her into coherence. “Luka, you don’t have to do that, I’m sure I can work something out with—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” Luka interrupted her. “If you try to expense it, you’ll end up working, and I want you all to myself. You’re not going to do a damn thing while you’re here besides lay in bed and eat ice cream and watch crappy American made-for-TV movies in English.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could do that here,” Marinette sniffled, her voice thick and nasally, “Really, Luka, you still have to work and it’s too much trouble, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, not taking no for an answer,” Luka cut her off. “Bring something fancy, I’m sure Jagged has a party or a film premier or some other nonsense we can crash. We can even get makeovers beforehand if you want. I thought I was good with makeup but you wouldn’t believe the things my stylist can do with an eyeshadow palette.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette giggled, and he smiled. “Come on, Marinette,” he wheedled. “You can take a vacation. You deserve it. And there’s none of his stupid billboards here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be nice,” Marinette acknowledged, voice going all quavery again. “You didn’t ask why.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me,” Luka pointed out gently. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it right now. When you’re ready. Or never. Okay? Come see me in New York. Let me take care of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure that’s a good idea, mate?” Dingo asked from behind him, when Luka hung up the phone. Luka turned to see his best friend and drummer sitting upside down on the couch—if you could even call that sitting, with his legs propped against the back of the sofa, his back pressed into the seat, and his mohawk brushing the floor. “Sounds like the setup for a bunch of lame romcom shenanigans to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka ignored him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than a week later he picked up Marinette up at the airport. The first thing he did was fold her up in a big, tight hug. She started to shake almost immediately, and he rocked her in place gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his shirt, wiping at her eyes and trying to regain some control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry,” Luka murmured, pulling her back against him. He held her as tight as he could without crushing the air from her lungs, and rubbed her back. “Take all the time you need. I’ve got you. Go ahead and cry as much as you need to. I don’t have anywhere to be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was really only partly true; he did have plenty of somewheres he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be, but when he went to Penny to ask for some free time in his schedule over the next two weeks, fully prepared for an argument, she had looked up at him and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Luka,” she said. “You’ve more than earned a break. I’m glad you’re finally sticking your head out of your hotel room, Jagged and I were starting to worry about you.” She poked him with her stylus. “You’re too young to be such a workaholic. Just make sure you’re there for rehearsals and we’ll handle the rest without you for a while. Go have some fun.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka had left that meeting blushing and slightly bewildered, but he shook it off quickly, more focused on what he could do to help Marinette while she was here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the worst of the tears seemed to have passed, Luka shuffled Marinette over to the baggage carriage long enough to snag the pink and white polka dot suitcase that could only be hers, and then coaxed her gently towards the car. “You’ll feel better away from this crowd,” he whispered into her hair, and she let him guide her, keeping her head down and her face pressed against his shoulder at every pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka got her into the car, flicked the button to raise the privacy screen, and then pulled her close, leaning her against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette laid her head against his chest and cried and cried. When they finally pulled into the garage under the hotel, she was sound asleep. Luka lifted her out of the car, grateful for her slight build and the muscle he had built during the tour. After a quiet request to the driver to send her bag up after them, he carried her to the private VIP elevator. When it reached the floor reserved for Jagged’s crew, he found Dingo standing in the hallway, keycard halfway in the door. Dingo looked up at him and raised his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka rolled his eyes. “Just open the door,” he muttered, adjusting Marinette slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realize Juleka’s going to kill you when she hears how stupid you’re being,” Dingo commented, doing as Luka asked. “I can’t wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Luka sighed, going through the door Dingo held open for him. “She might deafen me, but she won’t kill me. Probably.” He managed, somehow, to navigate Dingo’s side of the room and make it to his own bed, where he laid Marinette down gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how is this supposed to work?” Dingo asked, folding his arms. “Because if she’s staying here I’m gonna go room with Crusher and Jazz. They’re way less gross than—”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has her own room,” Luka broke in, giving Dingo a look. “She’s just in no shape to check in right now. I’ll take care of it.” He hesitated, looking back at Marinette, and then at Dingo again with a sigh. “Stay with her for me? I don’t want her to wake up alone. Can I trust you not to be a total dumbass for once?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Dingo told him, sitting down in the awful chair that went with the desk in their room, making it creak in protest as he leaned back and put his booted feet up on the desk. “Not a chance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ding.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stay here, but that’s it,” Dingo told him, tipping his shades down to look at Luka. “She’s your not-girlfriend. I didn’t sign up for snot stains on my shirt.” He gestured at Luka’s chest, and Luka looked down at himself and sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such an ass,” Luka muttered, pulling a clean shirt out of the drawer. Concluding as he changed that he didn’t have any other good options, he tucked a blanket around Marinette—one that she had made for him before he left, in fact, with quantities of tiny beads sewn into the channels for weight—and went to check her into her room with one more warning look at Dingo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dingo just rolled his eyes behind his tinted glasses.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Luka came back with Marinette’s room key, she was sitting up on the bed, his blanket across her lap and a water bottle in her hands, giggling weakly even as tears leaked from her eyes. A box of tissues was tipped on its side next to her on the bed, like it had been tossed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes were red and swollen when she looked up at him, but he was ready to forgive Dingo just about anything when she smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka flashed a key card at her and smiled back. “Your room’s ready. You want to come check it out? I’m sure you could use a shower and a nap after that flight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette had to clear her throat before she could answer, but she was still smiling as she said, “That sounds great.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka went to help her untangle herself from the blanket, and then followed her out of the room. She paused on her way out to bend down and wrap an arm around Dingo’s neck. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice rough and harsh. “It’s good see you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dingo patted her arm and grinned. “You’re delirious from jetlag. Tell me that again when you’ve had some sleep,” he told her. Luka dropped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder as he passed and squeezed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Luka said, and Dingo snorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juleka’s still gonna kill you,” he said, tipping down his shades to look up at Luka. “I’d tell you not to do anything stupid, but I’m pretty sure it’s already too late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka flipped him off on his way out the door. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Shoulder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Luka still had rehearsals and performances and meetings, but Penny was true to her word about lightening his schedule, and he spent every moment he could get with Marinette. He held her while she cried, and listened while she raged, and brought drinks up to her room so she could get drunk in relative safety. By the end of the week, she wasn’t exactly back to her old self—it would take a lot longer than a week, or even the several weeks that had passed since the breakup, to heal the kind of pain she was feeling—but her grief and heartache were less all-consuming, and she was pretty well cried out. Luka still didn’t understand exactly what had caused the breakup, but then, he wasn’t sure Marinette totally understood, either. As best he could tell, it had more to do with Adrien finally rebelling against the life his father had planned for him than anything Marinette had done. On the one hand, Luka sort of understood. On the other...he kind of wanted to punch Adrien. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was relieved when Marinette finally began to show interest in other things and smile without immediately bursting into tears. She even ventured out of her room long enough to join Luka and Dingo in the hotel’s massive pool. Dingo’s antics made her laugh, and it was a welcome sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” he muttered to Dingo as Marinette swam laps. “I told you it would be fine. She’s doing better, and no disasters.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not on the plane back to Paris yet, mate,” Dingo snorted. Luka rolled his eyes and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night Luka was sitting next to her on the bed in her hotel suite, propped up against the headboard with her shoulder pressed to his, passing a pint of ice cream back and forth as they talked about nothing and ignored the movie playing on TV, when she kissed him. He’d just set the empty ice cream container on the nightstand and when he turned back to her, she caught his face in her hands and kissed him full on the mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka wasn’t completely unprepared. He’d known that it was possible, even likely, and had time to think about what he would do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For half a breath, none of that mattered in the shock of her cold lips pressing to his. His hands were in her hair before he was even aware of what he was doing, and the moan he let slip was totally unplanned. He quickly gentled his response as his brain caught up to him, kissing her back with carefully measured passion, slow and deep as he poured all the love and want he felt for her into those few precious seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she tried to push forward he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, right over his name. “I can’t,” he told her softly, thumb brushing the letters peeping out of her collar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked, eyes already hazy and half-lidded, as she tried to understand. “Why?” she asked, as he knew she would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you don’t love me like that,” he said, bringing up his other hand to smooth her hair back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed her lips together, looking frustrated. “Why does that matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka sighed. “Because I’m still in love with you, and doing this won’t make you happy, and it’ll tear me up inside if you one night stand me. So please. I can’t. I didn’t bring you here to be your rebound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette sat back slightly, clearly struggling to process everything he’d just said. “Then...why did you bring me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka let his hand fall from her face so he could lean on it, but kept his other hand on her shoulder, thumb still stroking gently. “Exactly what I said. I hated that you were in so much pain and I thought it would do you some good to get away from Paris and all the people who’ve known you as a couple for so long. I wanted to make you just a little bit less unhappy if I possibly could. This, though...I can’t do it. We don’t want the same things right now, and I’m not willing to risk our friendship over it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re...still in love with me?” Marinette said, sounding somewhere between bewildered and awed. “Still? Luka, it’s been—you’ve had—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had relationships,” Luka acknowledged. “And they were sincere, and I was totally committed while I was in them. I just—I don’t think I’ll ever be totally over you, Marinette. I can play a dozen other songs, but in between, in the quiet moments...I always hear you. You still speak to me the way nobody else does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause, and Marinette shifted off her knees, crossing her legs in front of her. “And what if I said I was in love with you too?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka looked at her, taking in a long breath through his nose and letting it out. “I think I’d be really hurt if you lied to me like that just because you’re sad and you want to get laid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette looked away, cheeks flushing in shame.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you really want company that badly,” Luka said quietly, “I’ll help you get dressed up and you can go down to the hotel bar. I guarantee you won’t have any trouble.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette made a face and curled up, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking morose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never needed it before,” she muttered. “Before him. Even when we were together it was a long time before we...I can’t do that with a stranger. Maybe...maybe someday but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Luka said, leaning forward to rub her back soothingly. “That’s totally okay even if you never want to do it with a stranger. If you want, we can just go back to watching the movie.” Marinette hid her face in her knees to whine, and Luka chuckled. “Or I can go back to my room,” he suggested. “You could relax on your own for a little. Maybe take a nice bath and—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He choked on the rest of his sentence to keep from laughing. It was fascinating to watch the back of her neck go red. He’d never seen her blush from this angle before. “Marinette, come on,” he said, unable to keep the laughter back any longer. “You’re a grown woman. You have needs, so what? Sometimes it’s nice to just focus on yourself and not have to worry about pleasing anybody else.” Marinette covered her head with her arms and let out a muffled scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop talking,” she whined, but then she peeped back out at him with a conflicted expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God,” Luka chuckled. “Okay, go get some pants and shoes, we’re going shopping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s head shot up. “Shopping? Luka, it’s nearly midnight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka scooped up her pants from the floor and dropped them on her head. “The kind of stores I’m taking you are open late, trust me. We’re going to go find you something that’ll make you forget all about Adrien never-gonna-get-to-fuck-you-again Agreste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luka!” Marinette gasped, but she was laughing as she pulled her pants on and tucked her nightshirt into them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shoes, baby girl, let’s go,” Luka laughed, shoving his feet into his own boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me baby girl,” Marinette groused, swatting his shoulder as he passed. “You sound like Dingo. And if you’re taking me where I think you’re taking me, he’s the last person I want to be thinking about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually we should invite him, it’d be fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LUKA!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette, trust me,” Luka grinned. “Dingo is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>master </span>
  </em>
  <span>at awkward, including killing it by just being that absurd. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be paying attention to anything you do, say, or buy, if he was around.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Marinette repeated firmly, “Want to be thinking about Dingo that way, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even as a joke.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair,” Luka acknowledged, chuckling as he opened the door for her. He raised his eyebrows when she hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if someone sees us?” Marinette asked. “You know...reporters, or whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, I almost hope they do,” Luka chuckled. “But only if I can hire someone to stalk Adrien and send me a picture of his face when he sees the headline.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Ascender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Mate, are you just getting in?” Dingo said groggily, sitting up on his elbows to squint at Luka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spent most of the night in the lounge,” Luka told him, sliding his guitar off his shoulder and propping it in the stand. “I was working on a song.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dingo huffed and fell back in the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “‘Course you were,” he muttered. He peeked out from under his arm as Luka grabbed his things and headed for the bathroom. “Aren’t you going to sleep?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did sleep,” Luka admitted. “Passed out in the chair and just woke up when the staff came in to set up the refreshments. I’m just gonna shower and head back, I’m sure Marinette will be up soon. It’s already after 11 am, Ding.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dingo snorted, his arm still over his face. “The premiere’s tonight. Like hell I’m getting up. Some of us need more than two hours of sleep a night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liar,” Luka said, just before he shut the bathroom door. “You exist on Red Bull and raising hell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guilty,” he heard Dingo chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka sighed as he put his things down and drew back the shower curtain. It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to sleep last night, but there was no way in hell it was going to happen after his little outing with Marinette. Going to sleep in that mindset would have been a disaster, especially sharing the room with Dingo. Luka was a gentleman, but his subconscious was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned the shower and pulled off his shirt. Luka glanced down at himself, and then turned to face the fancy oval mirror hanging above the bathroom counter. Under the bright white lights of the vanity, he could see that Marinette’s mark on him had darkened, almost—maybe to what it had been when she first put it on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn't be happy about that, he told himself, considering the reason, but he was still grinning when he stepped into the shower. It wasn’t only the hot water that melted the tension from his shoulders as he stood under the spray. It would probably fade again when she wasn’t here with him, caught back up in the rush of her life, but he was happy—he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>glad that he could support her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka sighed. He’d always sucked at lying to himself. He was happy to matter to her, and that was the truth. Not that he’d ever stopped being important, he knew that, but…important in a distant, far off way. It was nice to be important face to face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka put his head under the spray and let the water blast him in the face. This just wasn’t a good time to be trying to untangle all his complicated feelings. After she was gone, and he had some distance, he could think about it again. Right now, it was all about being here for her, like he promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clean and freshly dressed, Luka picked up his guitar again and made his way back to the VIP lounge set aside for Jagged and his entourage. There was a fresh array of breads and fruits laid out on the table, none of which would be half as good as what they got in Paris. He grabbed a croissant and a bottle of water anyway, and wolfed it down before settling down in the same obnoxiously short armchair that he’d spent the night in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He played absently, not the warm, heavy melody that had haunted him the night before, full of all the things he was trying not to think about, but the familiar clear song that never quite left him. It was a story, that song, and he wasn’t quite sure how it ended yet, nor whether that warmth he’d been playing last night had a place in it...but maybe he could make it fit... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so lost in it that he didn’t notice Marinette until she touched his knee and said, “Good morning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka looked up, and nearly laughed. She looked fine, normal; she wasn’t wearing any makeup, so her eyes and nose still showed the signs of all the crying she’d been doing, but she was clean and fresh, still flushed from the shower, and her hair was neatly tied back in a loose ponytail. She also looked...considerably looser and more relaxed than she had all week. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good for you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought with mild amusement, but all he said was, “Good morning.”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop that,” Marinette muttered, folding her arms self-consciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop what?” Luka asked, his eyes flicking to the blue lines on her shoulder, peeking out of the wide collar of her shirt before he forced them back to her eyes. “Coffee?” he suggested mildly, getting up from his chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking</span>
  </em>
  <span> at me like that,” she accused, dropping into his chair despite the identical one that stood next to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Luka coughed, trying to hide how close he was to laughter as he went to the oversized, overcomplicated coffee machine that Jagged insisted on having in every hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like everything you said when you dropped me off last night was a lie,” she pouted, and Luka couldn’t help a chuckle through his nose as he remembered dropping her off the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Luka stopped at her door, and declined to come in. “I’ll let you have your privacy,” he told her, and laughed when Marinette flushed and covered her face, then remembered the bag in her hand and tried to hide it again. She’d been bolder than he expected while they were shopping, asking questions and examining options with a thoroughness he found both incredibly amusing and very Marinette, but as they’d headed back home, and she didn’t have anything else to think about to distract her from exactly what she was carrying, she began to be flustered and nervous. “Marinette,” Luka chuckled, “It’s okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not okay,” Marinette mumbled, fumbling out her key card and opening the door, stepping inside so she could drop the bag out of sight. “You’ll know.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey,” Luka said, touching her arm gently, though he made no move to follow her into the room. “You know there’s no pressure here. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you’re not feeling it tonight, that’s totally cool.” He grinned, and leaned against her doorframe. “And I won’t really know, will I? You could go in there, chuck the bag in your suitcase, and go to sleep. Or...you could not do that, and I don’t ever have to know which option you went with.” Marinette’s shoulders came down a little bit, and she stopped chewing her lip, though she still looked a little nervous. Luka felt his smile soften, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead gently. “Have a good night, Marinette. Relax, whatever that means to you.” He winked at her as he leaned in, grabbed the handle of her door, and left, pulling the door shut behind him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, yeah, it was kind of a lie, but that was hardly his fault when she came in looking like the weight of the world had fallen off her shoulders overnight. On top of the physical release it probably felt good to take back some control of her situation. Reclaim her body for herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka abruptly realized he needed to stop thinking about that. Fortunately the coffee machine beeped, and he quickly grabbed his coffee and hers and went back to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a flat look and the corner of his mouth twitched. “You just look really relaxed, that’s all. I’m happy for you.” He offered her the cup of coffee, and she glared at him like she wanted to snatch the coffee cup out of his hand. Luka raised an eyebrow, and she grudgingly took the hot cup, filled with even hotter liquid, carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka chuckled as he sat down in the chair next to the one she had stolen, and set his coffee on the tiny artistic table between them. He pulled his guitar into his lap and began to play again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that the same one as the other night?” Marinette asked after a few moments, curling up in the chair and tucking her feet under her. “I really like it. Is it for the album?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka shook his head, not looking at her. “No. It’s just...something I like to play with from time to time. I doubt I’ll ever actually write the whole thing. It’s...personal, this one. It’s not for the whole world.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s lip slid out in a slight pout. “I like it though,” she said, looking down into her cup. “It...it sounds familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to play it a lot, back on the boat. It’s been a while since I’ve worked on it. I’ll still play it for you any time you ask,” Luka murmured, smiling to himself. He glanced up at Marinette, and she smiled at him. “How are you feeling about the premiere tonight?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette hesitated, and bit her lip. “I...I want to, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it would be good for you,” Luka told her, still playing softly. “I know you worry about the press and Adrien’s image, but—” he hesitated, trying to decide if he was being honest or cruel. “Sweetheart, that’s not your job anymore,” he finished as gently as he could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they’ll say things,” Marinette whispered, looking down. “About you and me. About why I came here and why I was with you and—people will think—” She broke off as Luka snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care what people think,” he told her. “If you’re worried for your sake, then I’ll drop it and never say another word. Don’t do it for me, though.” He grinned. “I’m not some pretty boy model who needs a clean image, I’m a fucking rock star.” Or, well, trying to be, anyway. “If you ask Jagged he’ll complain the rags don’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough </span>
  </em>
  <span>dirt on me.” Marinette’s mouth quirked and she looked down. “I’m happy to be your public rebound,” Luka teased, setting aside the guitar. “Hell, I’ll kiss you on camera if you really want to piss Adrien off. We can totally make up some wild, passionate fling where you used me for my body and then I’ll write a song about how you broke my heart to bits and it’ll rocket up the charts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette frowned, flushing. “That’s not funny, Luka.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka winced. “Yeah, sorry. I...didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s shoulders curled in.  “I am sorry. About last night. That was...really unfair of me, and I see that now. I shouldn’t have made assumptions about your feelings, and I shouldn’t have tried to use you like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka reached over the space between them, tugging her arm lightly until she gave him her hand. “Forgiven. I’m glad you feel safe with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette smiled. “Well. I was safe with you, wasn’t I? You’ve given me room to lose my mind all week, and you didn’t let me do anything irredeemably stupid, even when I threw myself at you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka felt a little twinge of conscience at that. He’d thought about it, in all honesty. He’d considered whether it might not be better to have a doomed fling and get her out of his system once and for all. Luka could have been what she needed for one night, maybe even for a couple of nights, made her feel loved and desired and beautiful, and maybe seeing her look at him, letting her touch him and hearing her gasp his name, would have been enough for him. Maybe when it all fell down, it would have been enough closure for him and he could finally move on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The price was too high, though. Despite the voice in his head that occasionally wondered if it would be better just to burn it all down, Luka couldn’t bring himself to actually do it. For one thing, he’d be taking advantage of her vulnerable state. For another, he was sure Marinette would be as miserable as himself once the haze of her emotions had cleared, and he couldn’t do that to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And...he didn’t want her out of his life. Not really. Not as long as she still wanted to be in his. It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope</span>
  </em>
  <span>, exactly, it was just…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he said simply. “More than being </span>
  <em>
    <span>in love</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you, I mean. I love you the way I love Juleka and my mom and Dingo. I want you to achieve your dreams, I want all good things for you, and I’m happy to be a part of that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>part of it, and I don’t want my feelings to be in your way. I don’t want them to be in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> way, and stop me from doing for you what I’d do for anyone else I loved. When you hurt, I hurt. I want to be there for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette considered that for a moment, and then leaned over, craning to see the tattoo on the back of his shoulder where it peeked out of his tank top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing?” she asked softly, nodding at it. “With...all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka shrugged a little, the hand not holding hers tightening on his guitar. “Better. I can’t sleep with anybody else in the room, but other than that. I’m okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette frowned. “Isn’t that a problem on the bus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka sighed through his nose. “Depends who’s on it. I’m okay with the band and Penny and Jagged.” He lifted his arm a little, indicating the double ring around his bicep made of his bandmates’ names. “If anyone else has to ride with us, I can’t sleep. Penny makes sure I get it to myself for a couple hours during the day if I start looking ragged, and I never room with anybody but Dingo on stops, so I get by.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “You know the jackass actually apologized for putting his stupid name on my back? He didn’t need to, it wasn’t the same thing, but...I don’t know, I still appreciated it.” He rubbed his thumb over her fingers. “Thanks for asking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner,” Marinette sighed. “I’m a bad friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in pain,” Luka corrected, squeezing her hand. “You’re in real, immediate pain, and I’m fine, aside from the occasional irrational urge to kick some blond model ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you would not,” Marinette huffed. “You like Adrien.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do like Adrien, he’s a nice enough guy, but right now he’s a fucking idiot and I don’t have to forgive him for hurting you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette sighed, looking away. “It wasn’t all his fault,” she sighed. “I mean, he ended it, but...I think what really happened was that we were both chasing a dream, and...we didn’t spend enough time making sure it was the same one. I wanted the castle and the prince, and the whole time he was trying desperately to escape the tower. At some point, I became another chain that was holding him there, and…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a fucking idiot,” Luka said firmly, and Marinette smiled. “And I don’t have to forgive him. I get to be unfair if I want to. It’s my duty and privilege as your friend. You get to cry on me all week, and I get to be a petty little bitch about Adrien.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luka!” Marinette scolded weakly, laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what do you say?” Luka said, grinning. “Will you let me take you to the premiere? I’m dying to see what you brought to wear, I know it’s amazing, and my stylist is dying to get his hands on you. I swear he’ll make you feel like a princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette scrunched her nose. “I’m tired of being a princess,” she sighed, and then she gave him a little smirk that he hadn’t seen on her face in years. “Do you think he could make me look like a rock star instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka’s grin nearly split his face. Dingo burst in through the doors before he could answer her. They both shifted away from each other and Marinette automatically pulled her low ponytail over her shoulder to cover Luka’s name. Dingo looked between them, eyebrow raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Ding,” Luka said as casually as he could, and trying not to mind the ponytail thing. “How do you sleep an extra two hours and still wake up looking like shit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dingo scowled. “Oh, fuck you, mate. You’re just jealous that I actually slept in a bed while you broke your back in one of these tiny-ass chairs all night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s head whipped over to look at him. “You didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luka shrugged. “Not on purpose, but yeah. I’m fine. I’ll catch a nap this afternoon. You should too, actually, it’ll be a late night.” He looked back at Dingo and grinned. “Meanwhile you slept in a bed and you still look like you just dragged in from the club.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got Dingo fired up, as he intended, and their good-natured insult battle cleared the last of the tension of the room. When Luka looked back at Marinette, she was laughing, loud and unrestrained—like the Marinette he remembered, and not the Marinette of carefully measured television smiles and or fake, too-big smiles that only lasted a minute before crumbling. She might not be all right yet, but she was getting there, and he had a part in that, and that felt good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her laughter drew Dingo’s fire, and Luka’s elation grew as she rose to the occasion and gave as good as she got. He laughed when Dingo got up in her space and Marinette coolly dipped her fingers in her now-cold coffee and flicked it all over Dingo’s face, spattering his sunglasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the girl he loved. She looked up at him right that second, grinning proudly, and Luka felt his own smile go dopey and affectionate. She blushed, and looked away, and Luka picked up his guitar again, keeping the focus of his gaze away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he absolutely couldn’t regret what they hadn’t done. She had an energy about her, a spark that no one else did, and Luka couldn’t give it up, even if it hurt. A little pain just let you know you were alive, after all. He could live with it, if it meant he got to have Marinette in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set his fingers to the strings, beginning the familiar melody again. Out of the corner of his eye, Luka saw Dingo look sharply at him, but Luka ignored him. Still smiling, he kept playing. </span>
</p>
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